


Oh well, oh well, oh well//

by zfic



Series: if i could pick a day ~ an ichiruki series// [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Drabble, F/M, First time?, Ichigo X Rukia, Ichiruki, Oneshot, as mentioned on tumblr, i banged this out in an hour to escape uni pls allow, ichiruki drabble, ichiruki oneshot, idk - Freeform, is it even a oneshot if i plan to add a shit ton more to this series, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 05:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zfic/pseuds/zfic
Summary: summer heat boy and girl meet but oh oh the summer nights





	Oh well, oh well, oh well//

By 2:26 in the morning, Rukia had shuffled and twisted in her makeshift cupboard/room/bed/thing for the fifteenth time and counting. She had kicked off her coverlet, twisted it around leg then twisted it around the other in an effort to seek retched comfort, threw it at the wall at her feet, and then gingerly dragged it back up to her face again.

Ichigo sighed.

It was a hot night. Hot and stuffy, the humidity outside rolling through his pitifully incompetent open window in droves, and the small gigai-wearing, ice-wielding shinigami in his closet was _not_ having the best time.

He heard her mutter a string of curses and saw her feet kick out in frustration again from the open closet door. He bit his lip. It wasn’t cool where he was, not by long shot, but it was definitely better than a four-by-six closet stuffed with musty sheets and a bitter shrimp.

He steeled himself, then, “Rukia.”

The shuffling came to an abrubt halt.

“I know you’re awake.”

“It’s inconveniently warm, Ichigo.” Came her grumble, “How can you stand it?”

“I can’t, but I’m guessing it’s not so bad out here as it is in there.” The heat that crept up his neck was quickly put to the warm night and he scowled in the darkness, “You wanna camp here for the night?”

Rukia scoffed, “I am _not_ sleeping on the floor.”

He rolled his eyes, “Neither am I, doofus, I’m talking about sharing the damn bed. The breeze outside isn’t the best but it’s enough.”

She was quiet.

“Oi,” he called after what he was sure was a full minute of silence, “You there?”

Ichigo heard her tut, the rustle of fabric, then elegant feet stepping lightly across the wooden floor. He was about to move across the bed to give her room when she smothered him with her pillow.

“Gah!” He whispered, “What the fuck, get off!”

“Oh my gods, Ichigo,” she hissed back, “move over, I can’t see you.”

“So you decided to _kill_ me?”

“How was I supposed to know where your fat head was?”

“Maybe have a little patience? Could you do that?”

Rukia sharply took a breath through her nose, waving her hands in his general direction to hurry him along further across the bed, “You’re a fool, Ichigo.”

He grunted in response, rolling onto his side to pull the curtains further apart and let a little of the dim moonlight into the room. “You’re no genius, either.” He said over his shoulder, “And you’re welcome.”

“Yes, well, if your body heat is worse than that closet, I’m killing you in your sleep.” She huffed, “So, stay away from me.”

 _Gods, could she be more annoying?_ “What, like this?” He rolled back onto his back and pressed the side of his arm into hers.

“Get away from me.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, shifting his torso away from her but laying his leg right beside hers, “Better?”

Rukia ground her teeth and shook him away, lifting her hand to swipe at his face.

And all it took was a sharp _smack_ , a red cheek, and a startled Ichigo for all hell to break loose. They struggled, tangling in the thin sheets, a pillow went flying, his head smacked the bed post. Rukia’s arm went sailing towards his face and in his attempt to defend himself Ichigo must have hit a weak spot because she cowered back with a squeak, her hands flying to her sides.

They stopped.

“No.” Rukia warned.

“You’re _ticklish_.”

“I am not. You caught me off guard.” She pursed her lips and lifted her chin.

“Liar.”

“You come any closer, Ichigo Kurosaki, I’m slapping your face right out the window. You’ll never blink again.”

Instead, he dove for her, prying her hands away from her sides and tickling her ribcage till she wheezed with strained laughter.

That was the funny thing about the nighttime. The funny thing about the little hours, the not-quite-late not-quite-early moment in the dark, they weren’t themselves. Come morning, when the light was as bright as his hair and everything was stark and real and visible, _this_ , the night, would never have happened.

Gasping for breath, their giggles petering out, Ichigo looked down at Rukia, beads of sweat catching the moonlight that now swept his room and them in its white light.

This thing called nighttime. It was funny.

Their eyes met.

Ichigo loosened the hand around her wrists, once held tight above her head. Just an inch or two closer and their noses would touch.

It was funny because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t.

Amber and violet, weathered and pale. Focused and beaten and suddenly so still. Rukia took a breath, her forever peach-stained lips parting, and he bent his head to taste it, that exhale.

It could never have happened. Twilight was a funny time. Neither here nor there.

They would say later that they weren’t themselves. That it was the heat, the heavy mug of the air that pushed them towards each other. That they were delirious that sleepless night, it would’ve happened to anyone.

It wasn’t until the warm night the week later that they would swallow those words whole, and gladly surrender to the eve.


End file.
